Don't Turn Your Back On The Enemy
by Cross77
Summary: Grant Douglas Ward had never been more sure of anything. His place was with the team. He just needed a few visits from new and old faces to remind him that even in the darkness, there is light. Given the chance by those who see the good in him, Grant begins his road to redemption as HYDRA's remaining forces, along with a new threat in the Inhumans, emerge. Season Two AU.
1. Without John Garrett

Who was he without John Garrett? The man who had rescued him from Hell. The man who had taught him how to live, how to survive. The man who was his only father figure, the only person who had seemed to care. He had absolutely no idea. Grant Douglas Ward had summed it up when he told Raina that he was "everyone's type". He could be whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted. And now, for the first time in his entire life, that scared him. He never knew who the real Grant Ward really was. He never got the chance to know himself. He only knew the backstabbing, traitorous Nazi version.

Whatever Garrett liked, he liked. Whatever Garrett disliked, he disliked. Whatever Garrett despised, he despised. If Garrett wanted a bullet lodged in a moving target's skull from two thousand yards away, Grant obliged. If Garrett wanted his espionage skills matched with Romanoff's, his marksmanship as accurate as Barton's, his tactics as strategic as Rogers', his hand to hand on par with the Cavalry, and to be emotionally detached from the world, Grant obeyed. As Trip had said, it was his job to make sure Garrett got what he wanted.

It didn't matter to him. As long as Garret was happy with his performance, he wasn't getting yelled at, beaten, or abused. He hadn't wanted a single damn thing except Garrett's approval. Until he met Skye. It started as a physical attraction, because the moment he saw her beauty, he couldn't take his eyes off her. It wasn't until she started teasing him that Grant realized something was wrong, that something was different. Mainly, he was left alone at the academy, his emotionless face and demeanor warding people off. He had been teased a few times before, been called a block of ice among other names. It hadn't fazed him. But when she called him "robot" or "Evil, Faceless Government Toolbag" or "T-1000", whatever the hell that meant, it pissed him off. It really, really pissed him off. He learned very quickly that she was an annoyance. Poking and prodding and testing him. At first, it didn't deter him. His mask was intact, but his insides were on fire. He wanted so badly to wipe that smug look off her face. Quite frankly, he wanted to screw his cover and leave. But at the same time, he was fascinated by her. She was different from anyone he'd ever met.

Things were bad after the Berserker Staff incident. In that stupid bar in Dublin, she had offered a shoulder to cry on, someone to talk to. He had managed to keep his head screwed on enough to decline. In reality, he wanted to cry, he really, really wanted to cry into her shoulder. Dammit, he wanted to hold her. He was no longer annoyed be her antics. He was amused. She was breaking down his barrier piece by piece. Slowly, he started to open up a bit. He'd laugh genuinely at her jokes or remarks among other things. It unnerved him. Something had to be seriously off if Grant Ward was unnerved. He knew he should back off and become detached, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. When she was shot, he didn't need to pretend to care. He was scared, worried, and angry. And that's when he came to the realization that he was compromised. No one had ever compromised him. Not since Buddy. Even Romanoff had been compromised by Barton, and Barton by her. He was a damn spy, assassin, tactician, marksman, and hand to hand combat expert. Not that it mattered. He was compromised by an ex Rising Tide hacker. How could he have been so stupid? When she finally woke up, he was ecstatic. Apparently, it was evident. Everyone was happy for him and Skye. When he was in the room, she always had a small, gentle smile on her face. She seemed more relaxed with him nearby. He had begun to notice other things as well. The small crease in her forehead when she was frustrated. The way she'd bounce her knees unconsciously or pull them closer to her chest when she was flustered. He loved everything about her. He'd never said it to her, but he really enjoyed the lemon citrus smell of her brunette curls. And God did he love her eyes. They were eyes of endless seas of chocolate. And they were beautiful. He wanted to kiss her. His body shuddered involuntarily from the thought. God he wanted to place small, gentle kisses all over her.

Ward hesitated at first, but the more he thought about it, the team was like a family to him. And before them, he had despised every notion of the word. He loved them all. Especially FitzSimmons. They were like a younger brother and sister. Before he had recognized his love for Skye, he had realized that he was protective of them. Back then, he hadn't given it a second thought. But now, he had all the time in the world. He wasn't leaving Vault D anytime soon. He had hopes that they might accept him back, after he helped Coulson kill Garrett before surrendering without a fight. Maybe if he had made up his mind sooner, the punishment wouldn't be as severe. The final straw, the event that shattered Grant's resolve to help John, came after he launched FitzSimmons, who were in a med pod, into the ocean. _I should have left sooner_ , he thought to himself, gritting his teeth. He thought he was so smug, ejecting them instead of putting two bullets in them. After all, the pods were designed to float. Boy was he dumbfounded when he saw the damn thing sink to the ocean floor.

He had plenty of opportunities to escape. After his first failed suicide attempt, he realized that all he had to do was distract his escort to the med lab long enough to pick the cuffs they restrained him with. S.H.I.E.L.D. was smart when they searched him, but they underestimated him. He had a trick up his sleeve if he wanted to use it, a paperclip underneath the skin of his thumb. The problem was he didn't want to. Through all of his suicide attempts and his estimated three months in imprisonment, he stubbornly refused to acknowledge the pain. Until today. That was why Skye was descending the stairs right now, a blank expression on her face. He groaned slightly. Of everyone on the team, why did Coulson send her? Was it to spite him? Mock him? Ward shook his head clear as Skye stood in front of him, datapad in hand. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to touch her so badly. But he knew he couldn't, that things would never be the same between them. The highly technological force field in front of him only reinforced his knowledge. Maybe that was part of the reason he was handing over his only escape plan. He had finally realized there was no point. He was just so damn tired of everything. He wanted to die. God, why hadn't Coulson shot him like Ward asked him to? He couldn't help but feel like it was cruel to deny him his end.

"What do you want, Ward?" she asked, sharply.

Her voice was so filled with hate and disgust that he visibly flinched. He was too tired to bother hiding his feelings anymore. He didn't answer her. His eyes bore into hers as she watched him pull the paperclip from underneath his fingernail. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw it. He didn't register the pain. Physical pain was easy to get over, but mental was a thousand times harder. She pressed a button on the datapad and a small square in the bottom of the crackling orange force field opened up. Ward kicked the paper clip through before the hole sealed itself. Skye bent to pick it up.

"What's this for?" she questioned, her voice low.

He wanted to scoff, but didn't. Instead he replied with, "It was my escape plan."

She nodded, understanding the impact of his words before turning the wall opaque. As he heard the door open and shut behind her, He sat straight on his unbelievably hard mattress. Damn thing was more uncomfortable than concrete. But Ward didn't care, he was used to it. He waited several more minutes, doing his best to keep his face devoid of emotion, until his exterior shattered and he slouched forward, shoulders hunched in defeat. He placed his elbows on his knees and covered his face with trembling hands. And for the first time in years, for the first time since Buddy, he silently cried.


	2. Making Friends

When Coulson said that Ward was demanding someone come down to his cell, she had a sinking feeling that Coulson would send her. Ten minutes later and she was descending the steps to his cell, datapad in hand. Her expression was blank, but her heart was pounding. She wanted to yell at him. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to hurt him just as badly as he had hurt her. She, quite frankly, wanted to cry. But she bottled up her emotions and sealed the lid tight. There would be time to cry later.

"What do you want, Ward?"

Her voice was sharp, laced with unspeakable amounts of anger. More anger than she had wanted to speak with. She wanted to take it back, but reminded herself of who she was talking to. Grant Douglas Ward, traitor, Hydra agent, and monster. She dismissed any thoughts of guilt. It was his fault that she hated him. His. He was the one she trusted, the one she loved. And he had been playing her the entire time.

She watched him flinch before recovering and staring at her. She was getting impatient. Why was he staring at her? She was about to turn around and leave the monster to his cage when she noticed his hands moving. Her eyes widened as the thumb and index finger of his right hand dug into the thumb of his left. _What the hell is he doing?_ Slowly but surely a metal tip emerged from the finger. She watched, refusing to move as he finished removing a metal paperclip. Pressing a button on the datapad, the force field retracted slightly at the bottom. Wordlessly, he kicked the paperclip to her. She pressed the button again and the square closed. She bent down to pick it up.

"What's this for?" she questioned, her voice low. She was suspicious.

"It was my escape plan," he replied gruffly.

Skye nodded. _Was. Does that mean he's given up hope?_ She almost wanted to ask, but she stopped herself. Why should she care? It was his fault. He was the traitor. Turning the wall solid, she walked back up the stairs. Shutting the door behind her, she felt guilty. But why should she? It was his fault…right?

* * *

The next day, Ward did not exercise. It felt odd, wrong even, to not be doing his morning routine. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't even bring himself to stand up. Instead, he laid on his stiff mattress, hands behind his head, and stared up at the dull, gray ceiling. It was almost completely dark all around him. He could only tell that it was a new day based on the once a day delivered food and water. By food and water he meant a gray colored mush and steaming hot, probably left in the sun, water. He wasn't even sure what was in the guck. It didn't matter to him, he'd had worse. Sometimes he'd eat it, sometimes he wouldn't. The water was shit, but at least it was water. He wasn't going to complain to Coulson. At least he was semi-hydrated. Today was one of the days he didn't feel like taking the food. A guard was walking down the stairs with it. Ward shook his head and the guard left without a word. Days passed and he still did not exercise, still did not get out of bed. Skye came for information and then left. When he was first locked in the cell, those were the days he was looking forward to. Now, not so much. He knew everything was his fault. The venom laced with her words, the way she sometimes yelled, the abrupt exits. Through it all, he remained collected and emotionless, laying on the bed without looking at anything but her. Afterwards, he would break down. He hoped no one would see it, but he had a feeling that one of his former teammates would watch the security footage and see him cry. He couldn't bring himself to care enough to cover it up. It was his fault, after all. But why was he starting to resent Skye, the woman he loved?

A few days past again, no human contact and no sleep. Just staring. For hours and hours on end. Under normal circumstances, even as one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best spies, he would be slightly fidgety by now. Instead, he laid there, unmoving, perfectly still. It wasn't like he could be anywhere else, deserved to be anywhere else. His ears perked up slightly as he heard unrecognizable footsteps. Skye's were quiet, almost as quiet as May's, like she didn't want him to hear her coming. Except he could. He was a Specialist after all. It was part of his job. _Part of my former job_. These footsteps weren't loud, but they weren't quiet. They were just normal footsteps. Except he had no idea who they belonged to. So, instead of continuing to stare at the ceiling, he actually had to look to see who the damn person was.

The man had short, blonde hair, no bangs, and the stubble of a moustache and beard. He wore a white t-shirt and beige pants. Ward did not speak, choosing to glare unwaveringly at the stranger.

"Lance Hunter," the man introduced.

Ward easily identified him as British. He did not respond.

The man continued. "No, no, please, by all means, be rude. Sheesh, they told me you were closed off." He waved his hand absentmindedly. "But this is some next level shit."

Ward smirked. There was something about this guy that didn't make him feel alarmed. In fact, he found himself wanting to talk to this man. Still, he remained silent.

"Well go on, say something," encouraged Hunter.

Ward was silent for several moments before answering hesitantly. "What do you want? More Hydra information?"

Hunter looked appalled at the thought. "No, nothing of the sort. I wanted to see the resident-" He curled his fingers into air quotes. "monster."

Ward stiffened at the name. "Is that what they're calling me now?" he asked bitterly.

Hunter sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry, I hadn't meant for it to sound like that."

And something about his tone, the way he moved, the way he looked at Ward, told him that this man was telling the truth. He hadn't been trying to insult him. And it felt good, strange even, but good.

"It's fine." His voice came out strangely soft. It sounded foreign to him.

They sat in silence until Hunter's phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the message before turning his attention back to Ward. "I've got to go. Mission debrief and all that bollocks. I promise I'll be back tomorrow, and I'm gonna bring someone with me. Okay?"

Ward sighed, he should have known that Hunter couldn't stay long. They had literally talked for less than five minutes. Still, he was going to miss this man's presence. This man, who he knew nothing about, who knew nothing about him. It was an inexplicable feeling, but he was looking forward to seeing him again.

"See you tomorrow," was Ward's reply. But he had a small smile on his face as he said it.

As Hunter walked toward the door, he turned around. "And Ward?"

"Yeah?" He followed the man's movements with his gaze.

"My ex-wife is a Demonic Hell-Beast." Ward's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but his face softened at the next sentence. "You don't seem so bad."

The door shut gently behind him. Hunter hadn't turned the wall solid, and it felt good to have some light to illuminate the area. Ward remained still, his eyes transfixed on the door. He stared and stared until his expression cracked and a smile formed on his face. _Demonic Hell-Beast. Heh._ All of a sudden, Grant Douglas Ward burst out laughing.


	3. Influencing People

Ward couldn't sleep that night so he did the one thing that he had stopped doing for days, exercising. He exercised. And exercised. And exercised. No punching bags, full body dummies, treadmills, weights, pull up bars. Nothing. Just leg lifts, dips, push up variations, and handstands. And as much as it shouldn't bother him that he didn't have access to exercise equipment, it did. Whenever he needed to relieve stress, he punched something. He was half tempted to punch the wall. Except he wasn't stupid. He sat back on the bed and ran his hands through his disheveled hair. He had been given his morning guck and hours had passed. _Where the hell is Hunter?_ He wasn't used to this much anticipation. Not since he stopped looking forward to Skye's visits. There was no point in looking forward to those, not anymore. Not after he heard the way she spoke, saw the hatred in her eyes. It had deflated him, hurt him more than the first time Garrett had gotten mad at him. And that was hard to beat. He was getting frustrated. _Calm down, deep breaths, compartmentalize._ He couldn't do that, couldn't compartmentalize. It was getting increasingly difficult for him. His chest was welling up. His breathing grew shallow. _Am I actually panicking?_ This never happened to him. He needed a release, an outlet. Something! Anything! He was about to slam his fist into the concrete wall when he heard someone walking down the stairs. Nobody had bothered to turn the wall opaque, so he turned around to look. He wished he hadn't. Leopold Fitz stood in front of him. And he looked like shit. They stared at each other. And then Fitz was gasping, bent down, staring at the ground.

"Fitz!" shouted Ward. "Fitz! Are you al-"

"Stop. Stop talking. Stop."

Ward backed off. Something was wrong. _God, what have I done?_ He took a deep breath, knowing he could regret this, and spoke. "I wasn't trying to hurt you."

Fitz raised his voice. "You tried to kill us!"

Ward couldn't help it. He was angry at himself. He was frustrated with Fitz for not understanding even though he knew it wasn't the engineer's fault. He was saddened at both of their predicaments. He was probably a bit mentally disturbed too. He screamed at the top of his lungs. "The damn thing was supposed to float! It was supposed to save you!"

Fitz flinched at his tone, backing off slightly. He stared at Ward in panic before regaining his confidence when he grasped the datapad tighter in his hands. Ward narrowed his eyes at Fitz's constant tapping of the screen.

"Save me? Do do you do you do you know what the, um what you…okay. I, you know, I have trouble with words, so, um, it's probably best that I show you."

Ward's eyebrows raised. "Show me what?" he asked lowly.

"Hypoxia!" exclaimed Fitz. "That's what you did to me!"

All of a sudden, Ward was having trouble breathing. _What in the hell?_ His eyes widened in realization. Fitz was cutting off his oxygen supply. Fitz was going to kill him.

"Fitz, what are you doing?" He was choking now.

"I'm showing you what it's like when you're deprived-" He gasped several times, trying to find the words. "of, uh, the oxygen, the, the, brain cells, they, uh, react first. They die. Three minutes, damage is permanent."

Ward was struggling harder. "Where's Skye?"

"Gone." _What?!_ "They're all gone after Donnie. And I should be there with them! But I can't be because of you, because of what you did to me! I'm damaged!"

Fitz was crying now. Ward felt bad for him, he really, really did. But Skye and the others were in danger.

"Donnie. Donnie. Donnie Gill. Uh, Fitz." He was choking again, harder this time. "We can deal with our problems later." He was running dangerously low on oxygen. He backed up against the wall with a loud thud. "Fitz, listen to me. Listen. You." He collapsed on the ground. "They don't know what they're walking into."

Fitz's eyes widened suddenly, as if he just realized what he was doing. He turned back to the pad and adjusted the settings, returning the oxygen level to normal. He stared at Ward, who was currently sitting in a heap on the ground, taking in small breaths. "Ward! Are you, are you-"

Ward felt a twinge of guilt. The poor guy was suffering from brain damage and he was worried about a damn traitor. "I'm fine, I'll be just fine. You need to contact Coulson though, right now! And Fitz-"

The Scot had already sprinted out of the room, turning the wall solid as he left. Ward gently banged his head against concrete. "Please come back," he whispered into the empty room.

Ward was about to turn in for the night when he heard the door open to his cell.

"No, no, no, I shouldn't be down here. Coulson, he uh, he said that I shouldn't, shouldn't visit Ward. Besides, there's uh, what do you call 'em, security…security…ah yes, security cameras! There's security cameras."

"I looped them to play footage of Ward sitting on his bloody ass, we're fine. At least for a while."

The wall turned back into an orange grid and Ward could see out.

"You know how to loop footage?" Ward couldn't help the smirk that formed on his face when he spoke.

Hunter stared at him, a small smile on his face, beer bottle hanging loosely in his hand. "Mate, I'm slightly less dumb than I look."

Ward laughed wholeheartedly. The two men stopped reaching for their respective chairs and faced each other, before turning toward Ward and back again. He raised a questioning eyebrow. Fitz was the one to speak, an expression of shock on his face. "Did you, uh, did you actually just, uh, make Ward laugh?"

Hunter took a swig of his beer before sitting down next to Fitz. "You know what, I think I did."

Fitz glanced at Hunter before turning his attention back to Ward. "I'm sorry I tried to kill you earlier," blurted Fitz.

Ward stiffened slightly and Hunter nearly choked on his drink.

"You what?" questioned Hunter once he had gotten control of his voice.

 _What a great way to start off this conversation._

"I was, uh, very angry. I wasn't thinking. I wasn't going to actually do it. It was a…a…" Fitz couldn't finish the sentence.

Ward spoke calmly in a reassuring voice. "Fitz, look at me." Instead, the Scot's gaze found the floor. "Fitz, buddy-" _Buddy._ The word sent flashes of searing pain through his head. His companion sitting in front of him expectantly. A gunshot. Running. Just like Fitz in a way. _Poor choice of words._ He continued, steadying his heartbeat. "It wasn't your fault. All this," he waved his hand through the air, "is on me. Not you. None of this is your fault. Don't think for a second it is."

"What was that?" asked Fitz, his voice lowering.

Ward's eyebrows furrowed. Hunter took another sip of his drink, drumming his fingers on his knee hesitantly.

"What was what?"

"When you said 'buddy'. There was something in your, uh, eyes and, what was the word, uh, oh yes, expression."

Ward froze on the spot. Fitz wanted him to talk about Buddy. He wasn't ready for that, not yet. Still, he spoke softly. "Fitz, I'm not…it was something from my past. I can't, uh, it still hurts. I promise I'll tell you anything you want to know about my life. Just not today. Is that okay?" He was fighting tears now. The old Grant Ward would have never cried.

Fitz nodded, forehead scrunched together in worry.

Hunter leaned forward. "Hey, mate, neither of us are very good at the whole comforting thing. So, uh, could you do us a favor and cheer up?"

Ward's entire body loosened before it started quaking. But he wasn't crying. He was laughing. Hysterically at that. Hunter and Fitz glanced at each other as Ward doubled over in laughter. _Yep, I'm definitely insane,_ thought Ward. Hunter and Fitz maintained their gaze before shrugging at each other and turning back to the prisoner before them.

 _Perhaps 'monster' isn't really the best term for this bloke,_ thought Hunter.

* * *

 **AN: Things are going to take a turn next chapter. Thank you guys so much for all the kind words! Let me know what you think in your reviews!**


	4. What You Do To Me

Skye's hands were shaking. She had shot Donnie Gill in the heart. Watched his blood splatter as he fell over the railing and into the ocean. All without her heartrate increasing over sixty-one beats per minute. That was then. Now, her hands were shaking uncontrollably. The kid was controlled, brainwashed. It wasn't fair! She had no right to do what she did! But she did it. Because she was ordered to. _That makes everything fine, right? I did what I was told._ Except it wasn't fine. Anything that was fine wouldn't have her hands trembling, her heart thumping, tears staining her cheeks. She didn't know what to do. May and Coulson had practically just congratulated her and walked off. She needed a release. She tied her hair back into a ponytail and pulled on her favorite dark red hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants. She opened her desk drawer and grabbed her wraps, securing them tightly around her hands and wrists before heading to the gym, hands clenched in her hoodie's pockets. It was late. One-thirty in the morning late and it was silent throughout the entire base.

When she entered the gym, she walked past everything and headed to the heavy bags. She was releasing frustration, not training. So she adjusted her weight and punched.

 _"A gifted that refuses HYDRA is a threat. And threats are taken care of quickly."_

Jab, jab, cross.

 _"That's the difference between S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA."_

Jab, jab, cross.

 _"And that's why HYDRA will win, because while a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent is considering right and wrong, HYDRA's already taken the shot."_

She hadn't considered right and wrong. She had just fired the shot as ordered. Did that mean she was like HYDRA? Finally, she collapsed against the bag, sobbing silently. It had been so easy to pull the trigger. So damn easy. Just a squeeze to end Donnie's life. She needed someone to talk to. And as much as she hated it, that person was located in Vault D. She grabbed a water from the mini fridge in the gym before heading toward the vault, sipping throughout the walk. As she neared, she held her breath. This was her chance to turn back. She didn't have to go in there. But she needed to. As much as she hated it, she needed his help. _Hopefully he'll give it._ She stilled her heartbeat and remained still until she was sure there was no sign of any emotion on her face. She extended a hand to grasp the doorknob but froze when she heard voices.

"You shot May?" followed by laughter. Ward.

"It was an ICER! And it isn't that funny," complained another person. "In fact, she's got me on inventory duty almost every day." Hunter.

"If anything it's, uh, hysterical actually," chuckled another person. Was that Fitz?

Skye opened the door slightly as Hunter spoke up. "I'm on inventory, mate! It's not-"

"Wait," she heard Ward say quietly. "Skye's here."

She froze. It still alarmed her that Ward could hear footsteps even when he was in the middle of laughing with two others. And she was still weirded out by the fact that he could tell who each pair of footsteps belonged to. _When did it get so silent?_ She descended the staircase to see Hunter and Fitz standing up, turned to face her. Ward was looking away, staring at the ceiling to purposefully avoid her gaze. A pang of hurt welled in her chest. _Is he mad at me?_ She pushed it down. What did it matter?

"I have a lovely explanation for all this," Hunter began. She didn't want to hear it.

"Save it, I'm not gonna tell Coulson."

Hunter examined her stone cold expression before nudging Fitz. "Let's get out of here before we're dragged at gunpoint to the Director, yeah?"

Fitz nodded and they scurried upstairs.

Skye was staring at Ward, who was resting with his eyes closed. On his side. Facing away from her.

"Ward." She was speaking in a measured tone.

No response.

"Ward." Her voice grew slightly harsh.

She immediately regretted it when his body faintly trembled. _No, no, no. This is not how this is supposed to go._

He spoke, his voice ice cold. "What Hydra base do you need intel on?"

She stared at his back, contemplating how she should proceed. He was upset, that much was for sure. First, for some stupid reason, she felt she needed to find out why he was frustrated, and then she could tell him about her problems.

"Why are you angry?" she whispered, staring at the floor.

She wasn't sure if he heard her, but then she remembered it was Grant Ward she was talking to. He was one of the best specialists that had ever worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. He whirled on her instantly, not bothering to hide the pure hurt in his voice or appearance. His forehead creased and his body quaked as he seethed. "I seem to remember you blaming your brother. Or was it your parents? Man, I can't keep up. You know what? My bad. I slipped. Talked to you like a normal person." Skye recoiled at his words. He was mocking her.

Several seconds of silence passed as she tried to come up with a response. If she was recoiling before, she was reeling after what was said next. His scream was ear-piercing, filled with desperation and pain. "And I'm a monster now! Wasn't bad enough that I was branded a Nazi traitor. Really Skye? A monster?! Is that what I am to you?!"

She watched, mind playing catch up, as he slammed the back of his skull repeatedly against a wall. He was far too broken, that much she realized. Something in him was threatening to snap. And she knew that it was partly her fault. And she felt a horrible, gut-wrenching sensation erupt throughout her entire body as a wave of sadness washed over her. In her highly emotional state, she chose her next words very poorly.

"Ward, I need your help, I need you to listen, please I-"

A vein on his now bloody forehead popped out. She hadn't thought it was possible, but his next roar grew louder, seemingly echoing throughout the entire base. She wouldn't be surprised if the entire team came running.

"You need me to listen? Why should I? I needed you to listen, Skye! All those times I tried and you spat in my face. I…I needed you! I needed the one person I thought I could count on to at least listen! And you, you, you…just said to run faster."

He burst into uncontrollable sobs as he collapsed on the ground in front of her, head hanging low. Skye stared in shock, her breathing growing labored. _Did I really do this?_ She tried to reason with herself. _Ward's a specialist. He's supposed to be in complete control of himself._ His sobbing increased in volume, bouncing across the walls in the room. _I did. I did this._ Coulson burst through the door, equipped with an ICER and Captain America pj's, followed by May and Trip.

"What the hell is going on? Skye are you hurt?" shouted Coulson, eyes sweeping the room before resting on Ward. He froze beside Skye, dropping his arm uselessly by his side. "My God."

The team gathered around the jail cell located in Vault D, staring at the man inside without speaking or moving. His cries reverberated throughout the room.

Grant Douglas Ward had finally snapped.

* * *

 **AN: I'm a little nervous about this chapter. I'm not quite sure I'm satisfied with it, so please let me know what you think. I tried to show a conflicting attitude in Skye because I do not like how most of the characters are so heartless in season two.**


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